The Right No III

Today I am celebrating my inner Mnyuh. As Richard Schwartz might say it is part of me, wishing me well. She or he is relentlessly negative, peevish and mean. She can find something nasty to say about anyone or anything. I have not respected or valued her sufficiently, and this may have distorted her.

It’s too hot. The tube will be dirty, smelly and crowded. That 19th century woman artist the Tate is showcasing will be derivative and dull as the Guardian said.

Etc. Give Mnyuh her head, and see where she pulls.

I wrote that yesterday morning, and by the evening I had moved on. Mnyuh is a childish response to not being allowed to refuse stuff. I will sulk and be disagreeable and cause unpleasantness for others because I can’t just say no. Mnyuh seeks out some part of an experience to object to, so it will have an argument against the whole. The tube was crowded at times. In the evening, another trans woman noticed and smiled at me, and I smiled back and noticed. I like Annie-Louisa Swynnerton, so I am sharing her pictures. Laura Knight wrote, “Any woman reaching the heights in the fine arts had been almost unknown until Mrs Swynnerton came and broke down the barriers of prejudice”. Of course she means in England, but still. A huge painting of a child on a pony, painted like a heroic Equestrian, is beautiful. The girl must have loved it.

Not knowing my “No”, being unable to refuse what I do not like nor embrace it with Serenity, limits my capacity to know desire. In the 90s my life was a slog. I wrote in my diary going to my traineeship, “I cannot endure this job. I must enjoy it,” but I hated it and was glad to leave in disgrace though I did not know what else I would do. Then at the CAB I saw an older welfare rights worker for the council, and thought, that is my fate, this just goes on. Well, life does.

“Accepting the fact of our death, we are enabled to live more fully.” I checked the quote: it’s actually “the fact of death, we are freed”. All death, all loss, all endings, all change. Humans notice loss more than gain. If I can accept a loss I can move on from it, rather than fruitlessly craving what I never really possessed.

She asked, “What do you want?” I had no idea. I want to survive. I want to be safe. I want to hide away and not be noticed. These are fearful. So “No” becomes resistance to anything new. If, as I believed in my heart, I was worthless, nothing could be good to me.

There is my ordinary speaking voice, coming from ego, what I imagine to be acceptable, sensible, rational, and my true self which talks in a softer voice, which Richard Schwartz calls simply “Self” as “false Self” is an impossibility. Self was crushed, and has been manifesting. Self loves beauty, and challenge. I want to play the piano, though the teenager playing Chopin so brilliantly at St Pancras makes my playing seem plodding to me. I wanted to swim to the Palace Pier and back, a round trip of about a kilometre, despite the swell. I felt triumph going under it, and dismay at the thought of swimming back.

I want to challenge myself, and overcome.

My no is reflexive. I started this blog by rejecting it, wanting Positivity, engagement, delight. I found it stayed with me, then was resurgent. I am uncoiling slowly, like a cautious pangolin. Having my No as my shield to use as I please, valuing myself and my right, I begin to find my Yes. Or, if I can give a clear and cheerful No, I am able to see the boundary I need, and enforce it. If my Mnyuh resurfaces, I will notice and value it: it shows me I am fearful of enforcing a boundary I desire, and that is good to know.

Teeth and positivity

Why are things as they are? Is it because they are good and beautiful, or is it because they are a bit useless?

When positivity ignores problems or threats to maintain a “positive” mood, of “positive” feelings, it becomes toxic positivity, a problem. It creates blind spots blocking out reality. The threats and problems remain undealt with, so fester and metastasise. The toxic positivity becomes harder and harder to maintain, taking energy away from dealing with real world problems.

Worthwhile positivity- I might call it “realistic positivity”- finds all that is beautiful or worthwhile in a situation. It values emotions which toxic positivity finds unwelcome- fear, anger, perplexity- because they give useful information, as well as energy to deal with problems.

I want to preserve my rear right wisdom tooth, despite much of it being lost to decay. Reptiles and sharks replace teeth which break. Why don’t mammals? My understanding was that during the long Mesozoic reign of the dinosaurs, mammal ancestors became tiny, stayed out of the way, and didn’t do much until the Chicxulub meteor killed the dinosaurs. Because they were so small, they only lived one or two years, so lost the need to regrow teeth. One set of baby teeth and one set of adult teeth sufficed.

Our ancestors lost an advantage because they were small and insignificant, was the idea.

Steve Brusatte, in The Rise and Reign of the Mammals, explains it differently. Mammal jaws can chew. They move side to side. Reptile jaws take bites and swallow. Mammal teeth grind food down, so the stomach acids work more efficiently on small chunks of food. Just the right amount of wear on the teeth produced flat panels with sharp edges (p70), working like scissor blades. But, teeth which chew need to fit together. Mammal ancestors sacrificed the ability to regrow teeth in order to be able to chew, so process food better.

He also describes the Lilliput effect, whereby smaller animals may be more likely to survive a mass extinction, having shorter generations so adapting more quickly to changing conditions, and being able to burrow so avoid temperature swings. That helped our ancestors survive Chicxulub, and the end-Permian mass extinction.

The book was published in 2022. It helps to have the most up-to-date understanding. It also explains that mammal colour vision is poor because our ancestors were nocturnal. This resulted in other senses being heightened. Human colour vision is better, with three colour receptors, though other animals may have four. I see better if I avoid a solipsistic understanding.

I had thought there were five mass extinctions, but plants have suffered only two.

In the mid-20th century, extinct synapsids (from which mammals came) were called mammals if they had a particular kind of joint in the jaw. This century, mammals are defined as those creatures descended from the common ancestor of all surviving mammals. Other lineages are called mammaliaforms, though they may have had hair and warm blood, even a dentary-squamosal joint in the jaw. I notice Brusatte does not mention mammary glands until the Jurassic period: they are so important in Western culture.

There is a risk Boris Johnson may return as PM, though in July 57 ministers resigned from his government to force him from office, after he trashed ethics in government with his lies and lawbreaking. I am tempted to return repeatedly to the Guardian website, to find the latest developments. I could, thereby, maintain a feeling of horror and outrage. It is reassuring to feel as others do. I experience a heady sense of the rightness of my feelings. It distracts me from my immediate circumstances and concerns. I am probably better, then, to keep informed without continually returning to a source of inebriation. If there were an election, common feelings would help with common endeavour. I can’t link that to positivity, but it does fit to my desire to make my understanding of the world best fit my objective needs, and the continual temptation not to.

The picture is FunkMonk’s life-restoration of Morganucodon, a late-Triassic early Jurassic creature. The animal was warm-blooded, furry, able to chew, and as its young had a toothless stage, possibly it lactated. Not being a descendent of a common ancestor, palaeontologists call it a mammaliaform rather than a mammal. As Brusatte says, “nature doesn’t put labels on things, people do”.

Positive and negative

Is it good to think positively?

I seek serenity to accept the things I cannot change, and might find it in denial. I will die, but it is not good to dwell on the fact. Before courage to change the things I can I need motivation, made of belief and desire. Desire is a site of my inner conflicts, between what my heart craves and what I have been taught I ought to want. What belief is beneficial?

Looking at any past experience, I would seek all the good in it: all the delight, all the learning, all the evidence of my good qualities or value, or the beneficence of the world. I evolved to fit, here. The world does not revolve around me, but is not out to get me either.

Denial might be a good thing. I read that giving birth is the greatest pain a human can experience, and some women who have done it more than once report forgetting the pain. We construct narratives to understand but also to cope with experience- “Yes it is painful but it is worth it”.

Dwelling on the negative aspects of past experience might make me withdraw. I cannot bear doing that again. Denying the negative aspects of past experience made me withdraw, arguably: I denied them until they were unbearable. So positivity is not a safe space, a simple concept that will always do me good, but a tightrope.

And, we spend ourselves. My body is deteriorating, and doing something until you cannot do it any more may be worthwhile. Even if I avoided everything that will deplete or damage me, I will still die.

I want a positive narrative for My Life So Far. “My world became smaller and smaller until I was finally trapped inside a prison of my own devising.” I read that and was amazed at how it could fit me. I could be crushed under the weight of my own responsibility for my dire situation. Instead, I blame someone else:

I suppressed my true self for a false ego, because I was terrified of death. My parents imposed that ego on me because of their own terrors and their bad experiences. Despite generational trauma my true self survived, and I am discovering her, liberating her, letting her flower. I will continue growing into freedom. I will use my gifts for what I see to be good.

Self-blame depresses and enervates me. Blaming someone else and casting my own actions as unavoidable, or heroic struggle, will make me able to go on. This too is a tightrope, but I feel far from the risk of self-satisfaction stopping me from making an effort.

Considering where I am now: my situation is pretty dire. My CV is unattractive. There, positivity is worthwhile: make it as good as you can, by describing everything winsomely. The obvious action is to do some voluntary work to show I am capable of something. I don’t. Here I have no motivation for the rational choice. But when I want to write something, I do that first.

I choose to believe my feelings and my heart’s desire is a worthwhile guide to my flourishing. My priority is letting the feelings flow. This is being positive about myself. The negativity of my childhood- that self is bad and dangerous, hide it away- harmed me.

I need faith. I need to believe in myself and the world sufficiently to believe action might be worthwhile, and setbacks are not final.

A horse, and a cigarette advert. Is this place trapped in the early twentieth century? Woodbines are still available, and only new advertising is restricted by law.

Entering the Now

When I think about it, I enter the Now. Nonduality accesses consciousness. These words are the best approximations I can manage.

People say in this state they feel joy. It depends. If I am by the river, and lay down my useless burden of rumination, and use a mantra such as “I am here. This is. I am”, I will notice the uncountable tones and shades of green, the birds, perhaps some wild flowers, the path and the grass, and am likely to feel joy. Sometimes I feel terrible misery.

I share because it is good to have these things recognised. A man asked how I was, and I replied, “In Heaven and Hell at once”. He said, “Yes, it can be like that for people who feel deeply,” and I felt affirmed. Even if no-one responds, here, at least I am shouting into the void with the possibility that if I were wrong I would be contradicted. And putting things into words often clarifies them for me.

I am still working on negative and positive thinking. It is never good to deny uncomfortable reality in the name of positivity. And, I do not like how my life has turned out: all these difficulties while I ploughed grimly on. We all have our crosses to bear, and it is good to count our blessings. Perhaps it is as simple as that.

I have been hot from the world in Meeting with a bit of facebook nastiness winding me up, and I have felt that I am larger than this befuddlement. So I allowed it to rant as it needed, and felt that I was a calm presence holding and permitting it.

And there is the voice of my inner light speaking the truth. There I am, video-calling with my Friend. I want to say something, and cannot get it out without upset- my voice breaks near tears- then I settle into being the Light. The pitch of my voice goes up, and the inner critic is angrily denouncing me- that’s weak, put on, unreal, etc, etc- but I can say what I needed to say calmly without tears. I call this

the voice of my inner light speaking the truth.

As I grow to accept it, the misery may become less. In Pendle Hill worship I pick on this mantra/affirmation to repeat:

I am who I am.
It is as it is.
It is all right.

That self feels unbearably soft. Release the judgment, and I might release the agony. I am still exploring. Am I improving? Integrating is a better word.

Calling this a particular mental state, different from other mental states I often or habitually inhabit, has value to me. It feels different, just as practising a more erect posture feels different. I am conscious of it, as my muscles or mental pathways adjust to the unfamiliar way of being. Some time ago, it was magical and extremely rare. Now, it is more common. Speaking from it still requires a conscious adjustment, while I pass through discomfort.

I am in conscious incompetence. It behoves me to analyse, to notice, to adjust. And there is innate wisdom, so that letting go has value too. I need to value myself before I can complete this task, so I repeat,

I am a human being.
I have value.
I am a human being.
I have value.
All shall be well.
All shall be well.
All manner of thing shall be well.

---

I am a human being, or, perhaps, I am a living creature. So, whatever else I get from someone, I should oppose their cruelty to me at least as much as I would oppose their cruelty to, say, a cat.

This self feels unbearably soft, and yet, more real, more authentic, than the male mask. I suppose I am performing a teenage task: creating an adult persona for myself. I spent an hour on the phone with Jane from the Samaritans, on my various difficulties, my current rumination, and this decision, and feel affirmed.

I have presented to the world in shards of my male personality, though I know they do not fit, and often then cried and gone into the authentic self, speaking with a softer tone, telling the truth from my heart. Now I want to speak from that soft self all the time. I have heard the inner critic. I know the soft self is the real self. This may mean that I may keep some privacy: someone on Zoom admired my thick head of hair, and I surprised myself by not revealing it is a wig. Instead, I just smiled.

Clarity and possibility

Clarity is not always a good thing. If you open Schrödinger’s box, the cat may be dead. But possibility may be an illusion: I hold onto hope for something which never materialises, until the hope dies by degrees. Too many such hopes, and hope becomes unbearable.

You will see I am not in my most positive mood.

I had many blessings at yearly meeting- hugs, gifts, encounters. New ideas increased my clarity. When I spoke in the auditorium there were many of the customary indications that it was ego-led, not spirit led. A Friend observed that she had not heard me speak at that YM, I heard an implication that I always had spoken at other YMs, and then I spoke at this one too. I was thinking of it the night before specifically as something I could speak on in Meeting. My heart was not beating loudly, it never does. And the synchronicities of it- my other experiences, my recent reading, seeing a man sitting alone, speaking to him later: I am clear what I said had value, and came to me as gift. It was worthwhile for others to hear it. It was ministry to the yearly meeting, and people came to me to express appreciation of it. It got into the minute. How positive I am can determine whether something is blessing or curse- I am clear enough this is ministry, and being given it is blessing.

My world is weird and inexplicable- everyone’s is, however clearly they realise that- and at yearly meeting I decided I had enough confirmation that the weirdness could delight me as well as

HURT ME

-that it might be worth taking some chances. For example that applying for a particular job might not be humiliation and judgment from beginning to end. I know the judgment is almost all mine, projected onto others and generally that does not make it bearable.

I am nearly or actually in tears as I write. Snap out of it, I command myself sternly. Become Positive!

As human relationships end, I can see there might be advantage in denying someone clarity- letting them have hope, without any intention of justifying it. Someone without hope might become a threat, and I can see that other ways of preventing me being a threat could also be unpleasant for me. Generally, my seething chaotic anger is directed inwardly at myself, and when it manifests to others it is never physical. Sometimes it is articulate passion, but more often it is conflicted: I fear what I want to say is ridiculous so the bits which escape me are inarticulate, confused and contradictory. Still the anger is perceptible, and might make someone feel a need to protect herself.

My negative mood convinces me that possibilities are illusion and certainties are of pain. It makes it harder for me to see others holding me in regard (admiring me is far too strong a word- any possible evidence of that at yearly meeting I must be misinterpreting, or at least the admirer is hopelessly deluded). So where there might be possibilities I see only horrible certainty. I see my wish for reassurance as the most disgusting neediness and my anger against myself increases. The cat may come out biting and scratching.

I am laying it on thick here. This is ridiculous- I am now smiling as I type. It is so difficult- only Godlike omniscience would satisfy me!

Life questions

MaryMary has more questions: Do you think all negatives have a positive somewhere?

No. If your leg is crushed in an accident, you may discover great reserves of grit and determination in learning to walk again, but I would rather find those reserves some other way. “You have climbed a mountain,” said a woman, admiringly, three years after I started to live full time, and I thought but did not say, no, I have climbed out of a pit: it has taken a great deal of my energy, and the result is that I am mostly tolerated. Society should make it far easier for people to find ourselves and be ourselves: far better in play and exploration as a child than years of tortured psychotherapy as an adult.

And yet, in those blackest moments, it may be most important to find the positives, to find anything which will keep you keeping on. Where is your motivation?

Rather than “all negatives have a positive”, as a bromide to encourage myself I prefer “Life is change”- you may experience it as a series of losses, but there are new delights, always, and nothing lasts for ever.

What is your most valued keepsake?

I don’t particularly value things. There is a photo of my parents’ wedding. Mum told me Dad had just told a joke, but in the picture he looks as if he has won at life, and she looks at him- not transported, as he is, but pleased at his happiness. Or so it appears to me. It shows them at their best, so is a good way to remember them. The image could live on in my mind if I lost the photo, or even lost all copies including digital copies. It is a symbol of the relationship and the people, not the people themselves.

I have a chess-board in which pieces, slivers of ivory, are anchored into slits in a leather board, folded flat into a case so you can pause mid-game- ideal if orders come in to go over the top, for a relative took it to the Great War trenches- but I don’t know the name of the relative, so it was valued for a long time, but its personal nature is at one remove for me. Folded, it is slightly thinner than a phone.

What’s most important in life?

Surely that is different for everyone, and will change throughout life. Positively, a sense of purpose and being valued, and negatively a sense of freedom from threat. A sense of threat can invigorate, unless it gets too much and I am merely terrified. Not having much of a sense of purpose I am compensating by valuing myself, seeing my gifts and talents. Life is a process. I will find uses for those talents, I have found some use for them, and should value that. So, being able to see the positives is good.

What’s the best childhood memory you have?

Working very hard to learn the Pathetique sonata, then thundering up and down the keyboard with it. Or, possibly, this memory of danger and triumph.

The power of negative thinking

To be happy, you just need to decide to be happy. Visualise success and you will succeed. “Proud curmudgeon” Oliver Burkeman disagrees.

Try not to think of a polar bear, and you will think of it- the same with failure. We can’t control thought through willpower.

People who have had nothing to drink, and salty snacks, were imagining quenching their thirst. Imagining it paradoxically reduced energy and motivation- it felt the same as achieving it. Those positivity affirmations may backfire, and feel as good as getting Success might. People relax, and their blood pressure decreases. Dieters fantasising about losing weight lost less.

Fear, anxiety, disgust all have value for us. We face risks. The drunk driver thinking “I am a good driver, I will get home safe” may lead to disaster. Whether a thought is positive or negative is less relevant than will it work for my good?

Accepting all emotions is liberating.

Though- one who focuses on how to accomplish a task, rather than minor risks, will perform more efficiently. An athlete should envisage doing the somersault. Worry does little good. And- as a lawyer, I have to construct the case against me to find how to refute it. What is the evidence on any particular point? A safety officer on an oil rig, with all that flammable material, needs to imagine everything that might go wrong, in order to prevent it. His term was “chronic unease”- but he is dealing with serious risks. “Don’t worry about a problem- worry at it” said Ian Fleming.

Acceptance and Commitment Therapy, ACT, does not judge thoughts as positive or negative but on whether it promotes effective behaviour. You have to be able to judge whether a risk is serious. Self-doubt improves performance, as it promotes thinking about ways to improve- if you also have self-compassion, and can value where you are.

Eliminate false hope. Mr Trump will not take the action the environment needs. Hope can make us bear unbearable situations, but blind us to possibilities. Hope works when we have no agency. Abandon hope, and do what you see may be done. When fortune is kind, the soul should fortify herself against its violence.

People after great life changes after a period of adjustment have the same level of happiness as before- the lottery winner gets pleasure from volunteering, and the paraplegic after a catastrophe gets pleasure as before. It is called “hedonic adaptation”- change has an effect, then we get used to it. Happiness is useful data: it may help you work out what can make you happy, so you can pursue that.

Buddhists say happiness does not depend on external circumstances, but on accepting things as they are- including what real chances there are of changing them. Everything is impermanent. Getting what you want may make you unhappy, if you imagine you desire something because the culture tells you you should. Change your relationship to thoughts and emotions generated by experience- do not resist them or dwell on them.

From The Power of Negative Thinking, radio 4.

Negative and positive

I moved this morning (Thursday) from negative to positive and I would love to know how.

I have a job interview coming up. I was thinking how much I hated interviews, how much effort it would be, how desolate I would feel after having been rejected again (of which I was certain) and how I dreaded it. I was thinking I will see her, which will give me perplexity and yearning, dissatisfaction, alienation and a sense of groundlessness. And other stuff, which makes me fear, or judge myself as wanting.

Liz came over as arranged, and we went out for tea and cake. I frightened her on Sunday with that outburst at meeting: my distress, and the effect it has on all of us. We shared our fears at meeting. One of us, his family has given an inspiring gift to the world, and he fears that when he is gone it will become less. It is a wonderful example and it might cease to be so. How can it be protected in all its beauty? Another fears for his daughter, beyond contact through facebook or telephone- yes, even in 2016.

And I fear for myself. My income is OK at the moment, and might just cease. There is little I can do about this, apart from look for work- see above. So. Afterword. I said the verse that plagues me- From the one who has nothing, even what they have will be taken from them. Sue spoke of her fears for refugees and war zones, and I interrupted: “And I fear for myself”.

On Tuesday Gill say in our meeting room and observed that prayer hallows a place. This place is hallowed. It feels different from the other room, though the path through the garden by the gravestones is lovely, and the movement into the Real World starts at our gate.

Onywye. K came and held me and I let myself be held and after some consoling words she said that I should not use “the fuck word”. Yes. And today Liz said she was driven to think of when she had been a primary school teacher, and how if certain children could not stand it they could say their safe word and go somewhere that she could hear them. Would I like that? Rather than the expression of distress in the Meeting room.

In Oldham CAB I saw a couple. The woman had been on the sick and claimed income support. The man had run a shop, and made no profit from it. They thought they were entitled to IS because they had no other income, but they had not been because he had been working more than 24 hours a week. So they had to pay it back. They objected, but the rules were clear, there was nothing I could do, and I told them that- brusquely. All their anger at their situation suddenly focused on me- how dare I be so unhelpful? They wanted to complain about me. Jenny went to double check and explain more circumspectly, and in the corridor Shahzia asked,

“Are you OK?”

And my “No” let out so much under pressure in me it seems, now, that I could never put it back again. “Not in the meeting room”. Well-

And now I just feel different. That meeting, rather than frustration and despair, promises fascination and delight. The interview- meet new people, probably lovely people, show off my good qualities and possibly get an opportunity. Time spent with Liz- tea, cake, conversation- that could be it, or it could be something else.

What I want III

I want to be safe. I do not and never have felt safe- this is not simply “because I am trans” and yet being trans has poisoned this, as everything else in my experience. I want to feel safe in the short term: medium/long term being less immediately important.

We were discussing Maslow’s hierarchy, and in this particular summary they are, Survival (food and water); Being safe; Feeling a sense of love and belonging; Having esteem; Self-actualisation; Knowing and understanding. Working with the homeless, said Eileen, knowing that they are not safe, she sees that they might consider the “higher” needs but only momentarily.

And so I retreat to my living room. This is only safe in the short term, and militates against “a sense of love and belonging” but has been the best I could do, given my false understandings of the world and my contempt for myself, and the way my other attempts at safety have been stripped from me as impossible and illusory. I wanted to fit in and support myself, and I could not.

I only sought work for safety. That is hardly unusual- I wonder how many people get beyond this stage if Maslow’s theory has any truth to it- but the safety I sought was against what will people think? in my particular false way of seeing that. My resentment is overwhelming: I resent being trans, even though I would not exist if I were not: this agglomeration of atoms as cis woman or cis man would be so entirely different from who I am. My rage and terror is greater.

I am not working towards medium or longer term safety because I do not see how: the effort will be too great, the chance of success too small. My old negativity has never gone away.

I get better. My contempt for myself lessens, as I realise its depth and bring it to consciousness. And now my contempt is conscious rather than the all-pervasive natural way things are, I may lessen it and consider my good qualities. Eileen did not understand why I needed to retreat, mentioning gifts including articulacy and intelligence. I can hear that, now. I would have heard it as a judgment- why do you not do something with them?- but not now.

Bringing this to consciousness I might start to consider medium-term safety rather than immediate safety.

Thinking, over the last three years I have been working as hard as I could, might bring me to amazed despair; or the hope that if I understand better I might manage more.

I want to be safe.
This is an entirely reasonable desire.

Starting again

If I do stuff and nothing happens, what’s the point? I got this wonderfully elegant admission of failure and argument for despair on Kiwifarms, where they laugh at people. Well, indeed. I mess around on my blog, and watch recorded TV. I only don’t fit the “living in my parents’ basement” part of the cliché because my parents are dead, and I am a bit old.

That last job. We thought we would open our doors and people would come rushing in, because they always had: in Oldham I used to arrive at 9am in January in the rain and find people queuing outside for the doors opening at 9.30, in the hopes of not being turned away. We simplified the service we gave drastically to cope with the demand. Yet almost no-one wanted my particular service, and I would sit idle, writing my diary or reading TVTropes on the internet. I did try some marketing and building relationships with potential referral agencies, but to little effect. With a string of failures over six years, I despaired and gave up, and am still given up.

No, I don’t want to apply for that job in Edinburgh. I don’t want to move to where they have not had a Summer and people are in their winter clothes (Frances reports) to take responsibility again. Even though I can see it is a good choice from limited options. I don’t want to go where my family are where I might try to re-establish contact, or might not.

I don’t practise the piano because of the amount of work necessary, and even when I did mistakes crept in. Aged 23 I could play Rhapsody in Blue from memory, and now I make mistakes with Ludovico Einaudi. Well, I have the time to practise, and I don’t.

Dunno. That meeting was good. I don’t quite get the man, whose reserve might be even greater because of my way of letting it all hang out, but at least we are working together.

I cycled thirty miles on Tuesday, in three hours. It is a beautiful circular ride, on country roads mostly with very little traffic, and rolling rather than hilly, though some of the inclines are a bit tough for me. It is the furthest I have cycled this century, in a day. I maintain fitness and increase my ability to get about.

I notice small, incremental achievements caused by my action. I am completely lacking in confidence: my first question is always “How am I wrong, here?” which when in balance may make me usefully flexible and now puts me in a funk.  Notice all the achievements. Notice all the positives.